by Dan Moren
Great. That probably meant bribery and coercion were out of the question – someone with Xi’s resources would make sure her security forces were well paid. Not ideal, certainly, but it could be worse: the heavier the security, the more likely it was to make a target overconfident. And that was an edge that Kovalic could use.
“What does the heavy security presence mean for getting fake IDs?”
“Well, that depends,” said Tapper.
“On?”
“Whether you’re willing to do business with Divya again.”
“She overcharges. By a lot.” Comparison shopping for forged papers wasn’t really a thing, but Divya’s rates were twice as high as what Kovalic had seen elsewhere.
“Yes, but she’s also the best damn cobbler on Jericho. If you don’t want red flags popping up the second we buy our tickets, we need her.”
The SPT’s operational slush fund was generous, but five fake IDs from Divya were still going to put a serious dent in it. And that was just the price of admission. They’d have to be a little more frugal for the rest of the job.
Kovalic rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Meet her quote. But not a credit over. What about schematics for the ship?”
Tapper raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. That was the commander’s department.”
“Outfitting?”
“I put out some feelers. Seiji owes us from last time, when we took care of that shakedown artist. If I remember correctly, I think he promised to fit you for your next wedding.”
Kovalic stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking again. “Oh good, because that’s definitely been top of my mind.”
“Things seem to be solid between you and the commander,” said Tapper, falling into step with him. “Neither of you has shot the other yet, anyway.”
“That’s your definition of ‘solid’?”
“Every relationship needs a strong foundation.”
Kovalic steered them away from the docking ring and back onto the main promenade, and made some similar course adjustments to their conversation. “OK, send Seiji over some scans of me and Sayers. A couple of nice outfits each – the more expensive looking, the better. And it’ll need to be a rush job.” Clothes made the cover: give him the right suit, and he could walk all the way into the Imperial Palace on Illyrica. Probably. He hadn’t tried that one yet.
“Got it,” said Tapper. “I also got a line on some composite magnetic accelerator pistols. They ought to get past anything but the most stringent security scan.”
“You know the drill, sergeant.”
“For the life of me, I will never understand your weird hangup about not carrying weapons,” Tapper said with a sigh.
“Less chance of us getting into trouble.”
“Funny, we always seem to end up there anyway.”
Kovalic crossed his arms, leaning back against the bulkhead. The rest of the crew was sitting around the table where only a day ago he’d been dishing out dinner. Now, it was strewn with equipment: tablets, sleeves, and half a dozen weapons that Tapper had divested from his person.
“Our intel on this op is limited,” said Kovalic. “We do know that Xi is a collector and maintains an extensive private gallery aboard the Queen Amina, which we believe to be adjacent to her quarters. That’s the primary target. The minute we step onboard, we’re on the job. Got it?”
His gaze took in each of his team members: Tapper and Nat both tipped their heads in acknowledgment without a second thought, while Brody seemed to glance over to them to take his cue. Sayers looked least sure, but after a moment, she nodded too.
“Good,” said Kovalic. “Your covers.” He pulled out a stack of ID cards and dealt them out like a round of poker. Divya’s prices had been exorbitant, but the results had been worth it: fully backstopped IDs that would hold up to all but the most detailed scrutiny.
“We’ll be traveling in two groups: Commander Taylor, Lieutenant Brody, and Sergeant Tapper are Bravo team. We’ll be inserting you as crew members in various departments. The good news is that starliners like the Queen Amina employ a lot of short-term sub-contract labor and Jericho is a common place for crew to leave or embark. The better news is that their on-station sub-contractor is much easier to hack than their shipboard databases. Your false identities have been positioned as qualified specialists in their respective fields who’ve already been vetted and hired on for the next couple legs – though once we’re onboard, Commander Taylor will tweak the Amina’s database to make you don’t have to show up for any actual shifts. Specialist Sayers and I, meanwhile, are Alpha team; we’ll be posing as passengers, operating out of a suite in the executive staterooms.”
“Aw, man,” said Brody.
“Privileges of rank, lieutenant,” Tapper said, patting Brody on the shoulder.
Kovalic ignored them. “Alpha’s assignment will be to make ourselves known amongst the more prominent clientele of the Queen Amina: gambling, drinking, and generally having a grand old time. We’ll be gathering intel about Xi and her collection, looking for an opportunity.
“Commander Taylor’s team will operate as our eyes and ears, gathering intelligence from among the crew and working on specific tasks: Nat, we’ll need a tap into the Queen Amina’s main computer network for security and surveillance; your cover as a technician should make that easy. Tapper will be serving as our logistics and support specialist – if there’s any equipment or other resources we need to scrounge up, that’s him.”
Brody glanced between the two. “What about me?”
“Transport,” said Kovalic. “There’s a good chance we’re going to need a way off the ship under our own power. Navigational mechanics should provide the excuse for you to get where you need to go.”
“So we’re just leaving the Cav on Jericho, then?” His hands smoothed over the tabletop.
The commander shook her head. “It doesn’t fit the profile of any of our covers,” she said. “We’ll have to leave it docked on the station, come back for it after the job. So if you need anything off it, pack it with you. Within reason,” she said, catching the gleam in Tapper’s eye.
The sergeant threw his hands in the air. “You ask one question about ordnance…”
Kovalic pressed two fingers to the spot between his eyes, right about where it felt like someone was slowly tapping a chisel in. “Contact between the two teams will be limited, so as to avoid anyone connecting us. In the case that one group is blown, the other will still be operational. Questions so far?”
“Yeah,” said Sayers, raising her ID card between two fingers. “What the hell is my cover supposed to be exactly? You and I are…?”
Kovalic waved a hand. “We’ve made it flexible so we can play it by ear. Partner, illicit lover, colleague – there may even be some overlap there.” She didn’t look too happy about it, but Kovalic had more pressing matters than her happiness with their fake background. “Commander, any luck on schematics for the Queen Amina?”
Nat tapped her sleeve and a three-dimensional holo displayed over the table, showing a miniature version of the ship. “The Queen Amina is custom-built. Its frame is a modified Aurochs-class bulk freighter, but the similarities end pretty quickly. It has almost four thousand guest rooms, almost two dozen full-service restaurants, seven theaters, a shopping mall with fifty boutiques, and, of course, three separate casinos.”
Brody whistled. “That’s bigger than a lot of towns where I grew up.”
“It’s also a lot of ground to cover,” said Kovalic.
“Not to mention the background population,” Nat added. “We’re talking several thousand guests; the crew and employees of the third-party vendors are going to double that, at least.”
“Target identification’s going to be a nightmare,” said Tapper. He was leaning back in his chair almost casually, but Kovalic could see his eyes focused on the schematic, taking in all the details.
“The security onboard is no joke, either,” said Nat. “It’s an adaptive algorithm-ba
sed system. Basically, they build a profile of everybody using biometric information like face and gait, then link it to your sleeve. They search for you and can see not only where you are but everywhere you’ve been.”
“That’s why maintaining cover is especially important,” said Kovalic. “We’ll conduct communication primarily by dead drop – Commander Taylor will distribute the protocol. Encrypted comms for emergency only.
“I’m not going to give you a spiel on the importance of this mission – you know the deal. We don’t take the small jobs.”
“Yeah, kinda makes me miss the old days,” Tapper muttered.
Kovalic surveyed his team. “If there are no more questions, I’m going to go check on our wardrobe delivery. The Queen Amina leaves in four hours. See you all onboard.”
Seiji proved to be as good as his word. A small container arrived at the Cavalier’s docking port less than an hour later, delivered by a surly teenager snapping some gum. Kovalic signed for the order and deposited the container in the lounge.
Nat looked up from the tablet she was consulting as he dropped the box to the floor. “You never did know how to pack efficiently.”
She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but return it.
“You going to be OK with Brody and Tapper?” he asked. “I know they can be a handful.”
“Tapper and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, but at the end of the day, nobody’s ever accused him of not being able to take orders. Brody… he’s been struggling a bit since Bayern. That cocky exterior covers a lot, but the whole thing with Page has been hard on him.” She bit her lip. “On all of us.”
A tightness enveloped Kovalic’s chest. “Nat, I… I did what had to be done. To protect the team.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier for you, or for the rest of us. I just wish you’d talk to me. Or Tapper. Or anyone. You’re not alone.”
Kovalic couldn’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping. Who was there to talk to when keeping it to himself was all that was keeping his team safe? Tell them the whole story and there might be no team left. “You know the job, Nat.”
“I do. Better than most. But taking this all on yourself… it’s going to eat away at you. And the team takes its cue from its leader. You wanted to know why the cracks are showing, well…” Nat combed her fingers through her dirty blonde hair in a gesture Kovalic knew all too well. “I just… I worry about you, Simon.”
Kovalic gave her a crooked smile. “I worry about you too. And I’m going to miss your wise counsel when you’re gone. There’s nobody I trust more to have my back.”
“Not even Tapper?”
“Not even Tapper. Don’t tell him I said so. You know how he gets.”
Silence hung over the room, and Nat looked around, her expression turning wistful. “I’ve enjoyed these last three months. I’d forgotten what it’s like to be on the ground.”
“So maybe… maybe don’t go?”
Nat’s lips set in a line. “But I’ve also remembered why I left in the first place. The secrecy and the ulterior motives… they’re caustic, Simon. It’s hard to do the job – much less be a partner – when you’re never sure if you know the truth.”
The sentiment twisted in Kovalic’s gut with all the sharpness of a knife. He opened his mouth, ready to spill the entire story of Bayern and Page’s suspicions about the general, and the decision that Kovalic had made, hard as it had been. He could feel the weight in his chest rising like a ship escaping a gravity well.
Brody picked that moment to wander into the lounge, eating something out of a plastic pouch. He stopped short when he saw the two of them, eyes going from one to the other.
He swallowed whatever he was chewing. Loudly. “Uh. Hi.”
Nat stood. “I’d better go prep. See you before mission time.”
Brody watched her go, then turned to Kovalic. “I totally just interrupted something, didn’t I?”
The kid had a knack for timing. Not all of it good. “It’s fine, lieutenant. We’ve got work to do anyway.” He turned back to the container and started picking through the contents, trying to ignore the lingering lump of the words trapped in his throat. Controlling his breathing, he focused on what was right in front of him. The mission. That was all that mattered.
Seiji’s work was second to none, even working under a time crunch. Unzipping one garment bag, he ran his fingers along the lapels of the charcoal gray suit within. Synthetic it might be, but without the benefit of a microscope you’d have a hard time telling the difference between a suit printed from an autofab and one made of real silk.
A crunch came from beside him; Brody was leaning over his shoulder. “Oh, great stitching on that. Looks good.” He gave him a thumbs up, even as a cloud of unnaturally orange-yellow food dust drifted down onto his own shirt.
“Brody, if you get crumbs on my suit, I swear to god that I will have Tapper give you an 0530 reveille for two weeks. And you know he’ll do it, because the man doesn’t sleep.”
Artificial orange dust around Brody’s mouth only served to emphasize how pale he went. “Uh. Right.” He took a step back. “Copy that.”
Zipping the bag up, Kovalic draped it over the back of one of the chairs, and then continued sorting out the rest of their attire. The pilot apparently had no place to be, because he continued standing there – at a safe distance now – eating his snack.
Kovalic eyed him sideways. “How did Sayers do, in your opinion?”
There was a gulping sound followed by a bout of awkward coughing. “I mean, you saw for yourself. She came through.”
Kovalic didn’t turn around; he had a feeling his direct scrutiny might only make Brody more recalcitrant. “Yes, she did. I’m not asking ‘what’ so much as ‘how.’ Do you have any reservations about the way she handled the assignment? Anything unusual come up?”
“Nope. Everything was peachy. She probably could have done the whole thing blindfolded. I was just along for the ride.”
It wasn’t that Brody was a bad liar; he could be pretty convincing when he put his mind to it. But there were times that Kovalic swore the man had tried to learn fibbing from a book.
Something had happened with Sayers and Schenk – he’d figured out that much, even if he didn’t know what. He’d let Nat run the op because it did him good to let go of things. One of the benefits of having her as his second meant he didn’t have to oversee everything. Which, he had to admit, felt a little bit weird. Especially when it meant he didn’t know everything that happened with his team. She’d told him that Sayers and Brody had been out of contact for a little under ten minutes, and her radar was telling her something didn’t go quite as planned.
But whatever it was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to drag it out of Brody. Say one thing for the kid, he was loyal. And given how tense Brody had been lately, Kovalic doubted that throwing his weight around would do their relationship any favors.
“Fair enough,” was all Kovalic said, pulling out two more bags and hanging them over other chairs. “I’m going to pack. One hour.” He slung the bags over his shoulder and tipped Brody a meaningful look, then strode out of the room and towards one of the bunks.
Seiji hadn’t just done well; he had outdone himself.
Truth be told, the styling of Kovalic’s suit was more ostentatious than he liked. Pinstripes had never been his thing, and the dark blue of the backing material was a trifle too shiny. He’d donned a blue button-down shirt, open at the collar, and, with extreme reluctance, had even tucked a pocket square into the coat’s breast pocket.
He straightened the jacket on his shoulders for what felt like the umpteenth time. It wasn’t that it didn’t fit – if anything it fit too well. He was used to cheaper, off the rack stuff that hung and bulged in weird places. But frankly if every suit wore like this one, he might have to make a permanent upgrade to his wardrobe. One that he definitely couldn’t afford on his current salary.
Adjusting his cuffs, he turned and found Nat eyeing him like a
perfectly-cooked steak. A slight smirk touched her lips, and her blue eyes danced as they met his.
“You’re dressed nicer than you were at our wedding.”
“That’s because our wedding was in the chapel of a battlecruiser and neither of us even had dress uniforms.”
Kovalic grinned. For her part, Nat was wearing casual attire more befitting a crew member: plain white shirt, brown loose-fitting jacket. Her hair was pinned up out of the way.
“Damn this damnable monkey suit!” growled Tapper as he stumbled into the Cavalier’s lounge, trying to pull on a sock.
Nat exchanged a glance with Kovalic.
“Problem, sergeant?”
“What?” Tapper looked up, mid-hop. “No, no problem, boss. I think Seiji’s having one on; blasted socks are too small!”
Kovalic choked back a laugh. Sure, the man could handle a grenade launcher, lay down suppressing fire, or drive a tank, but one pair of dress socks was apparently enough to bring him to his knees.
From the other side of the compartment, Brody and Sayers joined the assembly. Like Nat, Brody was wearing casual clothes designed not to stand out. His face fell slightly as he took in Kovalic’s attire. If nothing else, that mission on Bayern had evidently given him a taste for the finer things in life.
Sayers, meanwhile, had undergone a more substantial transformation. The black cocktail dress was light on ornamentation, opting instead for an elegance and simplicity that was timeless. A white shawl covered her bare shoulders, and the black leather flats on her feet were a concession to mobility and practicality. But she kept tugging on the knee-length dress, discomfort written plainly on her face.
Tapper finally conquered his sock, pulling his shoes on and clicking them experimentally together. His suit was somewhere between the chic of Kovalic’s clothes and the casual of Brody’s get-up, a plain black number with a white shirt that let him easily blend into the background.
